


The Run and Go

by Ogawdy



Series: LT week 2k17 [4]
Category: Warcraft (2016)
Genre: Canon character deaths, Liontrust Week 2017, M/M, prompt: angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 05:55:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11351259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ogawdy/pseuds/Ogawdy
Summary: Liontrust week Day four: prompt "angst"Lothar's biggest regret was that he fought with Callan right before the Blackrock meeting and he never got to tell him he was proud of him. After his death, he falls deeper into depression and alcohol, until even the people closest to him can't reach out anymore. One night, he finds Khadgar...Khadgar keeps still, shock clear on his face as Lothar brushes a finger across his lips, nail catching on the lower lip.“Has no one ever told you how fucking desirable you are?” Lothar growls.





	The Run and Go

**Author's Note:**

> No read-through, we post like men.

[Don't wanna call you in the nighttime](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wGbraQdkct8)   
Don't wanna give you all my pieces   
Don't wanna hand you all my trouble   
Don't wanna give you all my demons   
You'll have to watch me struggle   
From several rooms away   
But tonight I'll need you to stay

\----------

“Hold on, son.”

Anduin awakes with a start. It is the same dream every night. Callan’s eyes, his mother’s eyes really, so alike apart from that golden ring, looking back at him through arcane blue. There is always the fear, the anger, the desperation. And then the quiet takes over as he puts his hand on Callan’s shoulder, and it is cold. It is hard. It is merciless as his son turns around and his eyes burn green.

Upon waking, he is breathing through the guilt twisting in his heart. He’s afraid to sleep now, working himself to exhaustion every night. But he can’t fight it forever and once again, he passed out on his desk. Strategy plans are scattered everywhere. Ink stains the papers. The words don’t make sense anymore. His mind is filled with green light and the feel of his soul being drawn out of his body. The face of an old friend is growing scales and horns. Claws are piercing through blue and white armor. Deformed creatures are emerging from a monstrous portal. Shadows engulf all.

This is what Lothar dreams of, what he sees any time he closes his eyes. When he is awake, he goes back on what happened and what he could have done. He knows it is not healthy. His thoughts don’t answer to him, bringing back each and every memory of that day. Before going to meet with the Orcs at Blackrock, he found himself in his son’s room. He was cleaning his armor, preparing for the journey. Anduin had screamed. Callan had screamed back. 

Callan’s decision to become a soldier was a selfless one, a sacrifice. It was his way of reaching out to a father that could never look at him without pain in his eyes. It was him trying to relate, trying to create a new bond. Despite knowing this all too well, Anduin kept pushing him away. Instead of praising his skills and progress, he criticized his every move, spotting every mistake. Instead of being proud, he was bitter. Instead of telling him to be careful, Anduin yelled at him that he was weak and about to get himself killed.

Instead of telling him he was afraid and he did not want to lose him too, he told him he was disappointed in him. With a half torn scream, Anduin flings the near empty bottle of Volatile Rum that explodes against the wall. He does not even feel the sting where a shard of glass cuts his cheek. The sound stops the thoughts for one, two blessed seconds before they come back even louder. Claws through armor. Green eyes. Pain. He is not drunk enough for this.

Looking around the room, he groaned when he realized all the bottles were empty, the last of his alcohol now staining the wall. Anduin stands up, years of practiced alcoholism leaving him steady on his feet. He leaves his room and heads for the kitchens. The castle is asleep. It is this time of night between the last out have gone to sleep and the first up haven’t awaken yet. There are still the night patrols, of course, but Anduin knows how to avoid them. They have an annoying habit of wanting to take care of him, forbidding him access to alcohol and forcing him to sleep.

He reaches the kitchen and immediately opens the door to the wine cellar. He’s been spending a lot of nights in here, slowly going through their ten years rum’s stock. All the other beverages in here are not strong enough. During particularly bad nights, Anduin wishes he still had his secret stash of Darkmoon Special Reserve, but he had finished it in the first few days. Anduin opens a new bottle of Volatile Rum and starts drinking.

It is much later when he heads back to his room, although the bells have not rung five o’clock yet. With renewed alcohol in his system, the world is just a bit more blurry and his steps more insecure. The thoughts have not shut up yet but are significantly drowned under the pleasant buzz of the rum. Taking the short path to his quarters, Anduin passes in front of the library. He comes to a stop a few steps after the doors, then doubles back, walking backwards. There is light under the door. This is not normal.

 

He cracks the door open. The room is mostly dark, apart from one table lit up by candles. Khadgar is sitting at the table, deep into a heavy tome. He looks up as he hears the door creak. He is surprised to find someone else awake at this hour. His eyes widen as he sees who is stepping into the library.

“Lothar? What are doing here?”

The mage stands up, rounding the table. Remaining silent, Lothar walks towards him. Khadgar’s features become clearer to him with each step. He stops just a breath away from him, staring down into his eyes. The mage looks at him with slight worry, a deep line on his brow. Lothar wobbles on his feet. Khadgar immediately reaches out to steady him, hands warm against his skin.

“Wow, there. Are you alright?”

Lothar’s gaze roams his face, stopping just a moment longer on his lips. Khadgar’s worry grows stronger as his eyes glaze over before focusing again. Lothar’s hands come up to his face cupping his cheeks. Khadgar keeps still, shock clear on his face as Lothar brushes a finger across his lips, nail catching on the lower lip.

“Has no one ever told you how fucking desirable you are?” Lothar growls.

Panic rushes through the mage’s veins, his heartbeat picking up at the words. He can feel himself blush, can see it in the hunger in Lothar’s gaze. It is almost predatory and lust curls under his skin, tantalizing as Lothar drags his fingers down his neck. There is just the barest hint of nail eliciting a shiver down Khadgar’s spine. It sends goosebumps all over his skin. Lothar grins as he watches his eyes flutter shut at the sensation. His gaze locks on Khadgar’s lips, plump and sensual, as the mage let out a sigh. Lothar draws closer, itching to feel these lips on his own, to feel them parting to let his tongue in and to finally taste the other’s mouth. He breathes out in anticipation, his breath ghosting across his cheek. The scent of rum reaches Khadgar’s nostrils. The mage’s eyes shoot open, arcane blue, and he wordlessly flings the other across the room. 

Lothar hits the wall with a groan. Khadgar watches him, breath coming out in short panicked huffs. He reacted mostly out of reflex, the sudden smell of alcohol assaulting his senses having activated an automatic defense response in him. His heartbeat slowing, the panic receding, Khadgar observes Anduin. He is unmoving against the wall, seemingly having been knocked out. His legs are sprawled on the floor, back against the wall, head lolling to the side. Khadgar wonders if he hurt him by sending him flying against the wall and worry settles in his gut. He quickly makes his way towards him, crouching down beside him.

He lays a hand on his arm, shaking him lightly. “Lothar? Come on, Lothar, wake up.”

The commander opens his eyes confusingly, blinking a few times and gaze unfocused. Khadgar sighs in relief, letting the other become more aware, before laying a hand on his shoulder to catch his attention. It does, briefly, before his gaze wanders off again. Khadgar feels his chest tighten at the sight of this drunk out of his mind Anduin, a shipwreck of a man reeking of rum and sweat. It has been long since Khadgar has been allowed to see him. The soldiers always tell him the same lie: “Too busy…” and Taria professes he would meet with him if he had time. She always sports the same sad glint in her eyes too. They all knew about Anduin’s renewed fascination with the bottom of the bottle. Khadgar just never had the opportunity to experience it firsthand. 

“Come on,” he says, swinging one of Anduin’s arm around his shoulder and lifting him to his feet, “let’s get you to bed.”

Anduin murmurs something, perhaps a complaint but Khadgar does not hear. It takes them a few steps to find their balance and Khadgar is leading Anduin out of the library and down the hall. He’s praying for them not to cross any guard’s path because he does not want to explain and he does not want to face the pitying gaze he is sure he will find on the soldier’s face. 

There’s actual anger bubbling up in Khadgar’s throat as he walks Anduin to his room, knowing the path from all the times he’s stopped in front of the door with his fist raised but never going through with knocking. He’s angry at Anduin, for letting himself fall to alcohol’s bittersweet oblivion and he’s angry at Taria and Varis and Karos and all the others for not doing anything. They did not try to take him away, did not think for a moment to help him get rid of his addiction. Not one of them reached out even after everything that happened, Blackrock pass and his son’s death, Llane killed by Garona’s hand, Medivh corrupted by the fel. Khadgar himself had been lost for weeks, wandering around the castle wondering how high he would need to climb for it not to hurt.

Khadgar had pulled himself out thinking about all that still needs to be done, the war that still needs to be fought and the world he needs to save. He pulled himself out thinking about Medivh’s last action of opening the portal to Stormwind and saving a hundred of human lives. There are hundreds of thousands more to save and he can’t do this if he is dead. But Anduin has lost so much- too much, it seems, that nothing matters anymore. And Khadgar feels angry against himself because he didn’t push, he didn’t knock. He stood by watching Anduin lose himself to grief and pain. Shame and regret twist into Khadgar’s chest. 

Lothar’s door is still open, the inside of it trashed and littered in papers and empty bottles. The bed itself looks unused for some time now, although it may have welcomed a too drunk to care Anduin when he finally passed out after days of not sleeping. There’s a stack of strategy plans waiting to be approved by the commander of the army lying on the desk, untouched, and there’s copies of old missions report blackened in notes and angry scribbling stacked to the walls. Khadgar stops to glance at some of them, recognizing with a sting the plans for the Blackrock meeting. He truly understands now how Anduin has spent all the last months obsessing over every single event from that day, trying to fix what cannot be fixed.

Anduin shrugs him off then, and Khadgar is left empty handed standing at the door. Anduin pushes inside the room, shuffling his feet through the papers and empty bottles. He swivels suddenly, opens his arm in a wide gesture, as if encompassing the whole room. A chuckle escapes his mouth, and it would sound ironic if it wasn’t so heart broken.

“Well,” he hiccups, “take a good look around, Khadgar! Take a look at the mightiest warrior of all of Azeroth and his _lair_.”

It’s not exactly bitterness dripping from every word but something that makes Khadgar’s stomach churn. He hesitates now, wondering if he’s even welcome in Lothar’s room and he turns to glance at the open door. A short laugh escapes Lothar and Khadgar faces him again, face closed off in apprehension.

“Right… Run away, why don’t you. I’m not worth your time anyway.”

And there it is, the saddest smile Khadgar has ever seen, gracing Anduin’s lips and violently lodging itself into Khadgar’s chest. He takes a step back as if under the effect of recoil and sees Anduin’s face fall. No, he feels like screaming, I’m not running away from you. At this instant, Anduin seems to be getting farther and farther away from him at a pace he cannot keep, disappearing under stacks of rum and old mission reports, getting lost so deep Khadgar can never reach for him again. Trapped in this vision, Khadgar extends a hand, grasping at air. He tightens his hand into a fist.

“No,” he grits out.

Reaching behind him, he closes the door with a loud bang, not worrying about alerting guards anymore. He walks to Anduin, stopping mere inches away from him. The older man looks at him in confusion as he grabs his face between his palms and forces him to stare into his hard unwavering eyes.

“Now, you listen to me, Anduin Lothar,” he says. “I will not stand by and let you destroy yourself anymore. This isn’t about you anymore, this was never about you.” 

Anduin’s eyes swap focus between Khadgar’s own, moving with panic. 

“You are not allowed to do this anymore and I am not allowed to watch you without doing anything. You have a whole nation waiting on you, a whole city that idolizes you and prays for you to save them.”

Khadgar swallows hard, tears welling up in his eyes and throat tightening suddenly. 

“You have a duty, Anduin, and this duty lies not at the bottom of a bottle but with your kingdom and your king. You owe him this, you owe Llane, so _do not_ do this. I see you suffer. I see you,” his voice chokes in his throat, “and I want to help you. You owe us this, Anduin. You owe _me_.”

Tears stream down Khadgar’s face. He lets out a single sob, hands gripping at Anduin’s face and tightening in his hair. Khadgar’s forehead collides with Anduin’s chest as he lets the tears wash over him. Anduin is still him and silent, barely breathing. Khadgar’s words ring in his head, void of meaning amongst the desolation and pure pain that have filled his days for the past year. 

Images of Callan and Llane flood his mind, of Callan’s laugh and Llane’s smile, of their eyes before and after their death, of their warm body under his hands. Medivh’s face comes overlapping, both his human and demonic features twisting unforgiving. Soon all three men intertwine until they form one single image that has haunted Anduin’s dream mercilessly. 

He doesn’t weep because he has shed all his tears. But suddenly the incessant ringing in his ears seems to diminish until a light buzz and he hears Khadgar’s quiet sobs against his chest. He feels the mage’s fingers against his skull. He remembers the fear his eyes had held as he had leaned in, eager to feel _anything_ be it pleasure or pain as long as he felt.

He slowly raises his hands, cupping Khadgar’s cheeks and lifting his face. He wiped the tear trails with his thumbs, Khadgar’s eyes puffy and red. He looks so young, Anduin thinks, and broken already. There is an unfamiliar feeling twisting in his chest but he doesn’t want to think about it, not tonight. He allows a small smile to form on his lips, sees Khadgar hesitantly answering with a smile of his own, and he pushes at Khadgar’s chest. He is gentle and Khadgar steps back easily, soon finding himself with his back against the door. Anduin sets an arm against his face, holding Khadgar’s chin with his free hand. Khadgar’s eyes are impossibly wide.

“Take me,” Anduin whispers. “You want this right?”

He is way too close, breath ghosting against Khadgar’s skin and Khadgar is helpless against the pull of his body, the beat of his heart. His blown out pupils and goose bumped skin are screaming yes, yes to whatever Anduin is offering. Khadgar swallows loudly and Anduin’s eyes follow the curve of his throat. Anduin is eating him up with a hungry gaze, one made unfocused by the alcohol but clearer by the arousal.

“You know this is the only way you can have this.”

Khadgar tries to pull away, turning his head, closing his eyes. Anduin simply tightens his grip on his chin, drawing him back in like a fly to a light. 

“You can have me.”

The very same scent that repulsed him earlier now sends his mind in a heated turmoil. Anduin’s lips stroke against his own with every word he speaks. Khadgar spares one last thought to the unreality of the situation, the lack of reason and wiseness behind the very action, before leaning in. The kiss tastes of rum and stale breath and it is passionate, it is mind-blowingly good and Khadgar can’t have enough of it. He licks and nibs at Anduin’s mouth, moaning when their tongues meet for just a moment before Anduin bites down on his lip. It is painful but it is so good. 

Khadgar’s hands are on Anduin’s hips, Anduin’s hand is in his hair, pulling and twisting strands around fingers. Khadgar lets his legs spread under the pressure of a nudging knee and there’s spikes of pleasure shooting up as his crotch rubs against Lothar’s thigh. His head hits the door hard, exposing his neck to Anduin’s mouth and teeth. Anduin’s hands are everywhere, roaming across his body. One cold hand finds it way under his shirt and Khadgar gasped loudly.

He seeks out Anduin’s mouth, rewarded by a sudden forceful kiss that sends his head against the door again. 

“We should,” he starts. “We should move.”

Anduin pulls back just slightly, eyes half lidded and pupil blown. Then he’s back to kissing him, all brute strength and no softness at all. There’s a slight pang of pain and the taste of copper fills Khadgar’s mouth. He reels back but Anduin’s mouth is trapping him. Khadgar tries to speak against his lips only to have his mouth be invaded by Anduin’s tongue. Anduin is everywhere at once even as he pushes against his chest pressed flush against his own. And suddenly Khadgar can’t breathe, and he can’t think and he can’t cast because he can’t talk.

He pulls away just for a second for a breath and Khadgar cries out. 

“Anduin, stop!”

There are new tears in his eyes. Anduin takes a step back and Khadgar, free from how he was pressed against the door, falls down to his knees. He is breathing heavily and with each breath in a sob escapes. Anduin stands shell shocked, watching him, at a loss. He does not know what went wrong but he knows it’s his fault. Blame blooms in his chest and he has to lean his forearm against the wooden door just to keep right. He listens as Khadgar weeps and heaves and his own eyes are burning with rage. His anger thrashes in his mind, making him tremble and his lips quiver.

He sinks to his knees, right next to Khadgar, with his arm still propped to the door. His forehead falls on Khadgar’s shaking shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” Anduin whispers. And he repeats it over and over again.

Khadgar’s breathing slows down and he stops crying. Anduin keeps on whispering the words like a mantra, looking down at the space between them. Khadgar listens, lets the words wash over him and calm down his racing heart. Both their demons are too grand and real. Khadgar does not know how they will overcome them. But there is one thing he knows now: he will not let Anduin fight alone anymore. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he says.

Anduin falls silent. Khadgar brings a hand up to his face and lifts it just enough to stare Anduin in the eye.

“It’s okay,” he repeats and lets his eyes do the rest.

There’s a small hesitant smile drawing shadows on Anduin’s lips. He lets his face fall back down on Khadgar’s shoulder.

“Do you want me to stay?” asks Khadgar.

All he receives as an answer is a silent nod. So he pushes Anduin off and he gets up, bringing Anduin up with him. The bed won’t be the most comfortable but at this point, Khadgar would take pretty much anything as long as he can sleep. He lays Anduin down, barely takes the time to remove both their pair of boots before lying down beside Anduin. Strong arms encircle him loosely, just tight enough to show their presence but not too much so he has a way to escape if he needs to. Khadgar chuckles sweetly at the thought and settles against Anduin’s chest. He lets the warmth of the body next to him calm his thoughts and his slow breathing rock him to sleep. Soon, they are both deeply asleep, two parts of the same being whole again.


End file.
